


Heartwork

by Northern_wolf



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 15:15:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7273255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northern_wolf/pseuds/Northern_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa is the singer of the death metal band Trikru, currently on tour with their label-mates Ice Nation. Clarke and Octavia are a pair of gushing fangirls who are very excited for the show, which is in their student town.</p>
<p>Clarke is a hobbyist photographer and has a photo pass for the event. She can’t wait to take lots of pictures of her rockstar idol, Lexa, but ends up a lot closer than she’d imagined…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

‘There she is!’ Octavia gasped, grabbing Clarke’s arm.

Clarke’s heart skipped a beat.

‘Oh my god! Where?’ she asked, spinning around, desperately casting her eyes all over the front of the venue for just a glimpse of _her_.

Octavia smirked and pointed to a spot on the wall over Clarke’s shoulder.

‘You asshole,’ said Clarke, playfully smacking Octavia on the arm, ‘I thought you were serious!’

‘Well, technically…’ she trailed off, smiling.

Clarke walked over to the poster on the wall for a closer look. Technically, she had to admit, Octavia was right. There was Lexa from the shoulders up, wearing steel pauldrons, a smear of black war paint across her eyes, and an irritated expression demonstrated by her piercing green-eyed glare and slightly pursed lips. She looked hot and pissed-off in equal measure. To her right was Roan, singer and bassist of Ice Nation, swaddled in mostly fur armour, his scarred face splashed with white paint. Underneath the pair of them, blood-splattered text read:

_Grounders Promotions proudly presents…_

_Trikru VS Ice Nation_

_The Battle for Europe_

_Co-Headline Tour_

The alternative press had heralded it as ‘The death metal tour of the decade’, spanning the width and breadth of the continent – of which Clarke had extensively followed every step on social media – and tonight was one of the last dates, right in her and Octavia’s university town of Leeds. They had barely slept a wink last night from all the excitement, drinking cocktails and annoying their flatmates by blasting Trikru’s back catalogue through the stereo, and they had been up since the early hours of the morning, lurking around the venue on the off-chance of seeing their biggest musical idols. But so far they had seen no tour bus arrive.

‘Can you get a picture of me with her?’ asked Clarke. She handed her phone to Octavia and stood in front of Roan. She gazed longingly at Lexa’s face next to her while Octavia took a photo.

‘Here,’ she said, handing back the phone, ‘don’t criticise my camera abilities, I’m not the photographer’. She winked.

Clarke’s anticipation for tonight’s show was especially intense because she had been granted a press pass for the event. As a hobbyist photographer for the past year, so far she had only photographed small underground shows and club night events. This was her first ‘real’ concert photography experience and tonight she could be on the _other_ side of the barrier, out of the crowd and up close to her favourite band.

‘You better get some nice shots of Lincoln for me!’ said Octavia.

Truth be told, Clarke’s hands were already trembling at the thought of being within touching distance of Lexa, and she wasn’t sure she would even remember how to press the shutter. ‘Of course I will!’

‘Do you think he’ll be wearing a shirt tonight?’ she wondered, daydreaming off into the distance.

‘Who knows,’ said Clarke, checking the time. There were four hours to go until the doors opened. Clarke would have a nice view from the photo pit but she knew that Octavia would want to try getting on the front row. She was happy to wait outside with her to ensure that she got a good spot. ‘Shall we start a queue?’

They walked over to the front doors of the venue, sat on the floor, and waited. And waited. They ate a squashed packed lunch of cheese sandwiches that Clarke had half-drunkenly prepared last night. And then they waited some more. Little by little, groups of black-and-leather-clad fans joined their ranks until the queue became huge and bustling and snaked around the corner out of sight.

Clarke checked the time on her phone for the hundredth time, and right at that moment a notification came through with a _ping_. Lexa had shared a new photo on Instagram. She gave a small excited squeal and hit Octavia on the arm to get her attention.

‘It hurts when you do that, you know?’

‘Look!’ said Clarke, showing her the photo. Lexa and Lincoln appeared to be having a kind of backstage battle with inflatable swords: _Had some traffic trouble on the way but we finally made it to Leeds and we’re ready to battle! PS: Who do you think would win this fight? Me or Lin?_

Octavia grinned. ‘Obviously he would win…’

‘No way, she’s a black belt – have you _seen_ her fight?’

‘Well, no. I don’t stalk her every move, unlike you,’ she teased.

Clarke scowled at her.

‘VIP passes! Press passes! Royal warrants! This way, please!’ barked a stout security guard next to them, making both of the girls jump with fright.

‘Oh god. It’s happening.’ In spite of herself, Clarke had begun to hyperventilate.

‘Now just remember to–’

‘-take lots of pictures of Lincoln’s abs, yeah, I know.’

‘I was going to say “breathe”, but that too’ said Octavia.

‘I’ll see you on the other side!’ said Clarke, stepping forward with her camera bag in hand.

-

Clarke was waiting at the side of the stage with a small group of other photographers, all of whom seemed to know each other and were engaged in quiet conversation. She thought about going over and introducing herself but caught one of them, a tall bald man in a leather trench coat, cast his eye over her and down at her camera gear, then turn and whisper something to the rest of the group. She thought she heard a snicker and decided to hang back near to the wall instead.

She noticed they all had top-of-the-range equipment. Her camera was good, once upon a time, but it used to belong to her father and he had been dead almost five years. On her student budget she would struggle to afford a better and more recent model, but she also didn’t want to part with it. Since she lost his old wristwatch - something which she berated herself for every day - it was all she had left as a memento of him.

Down at the end of the corridor she could see light coming from a door that had been left ajar. A dark figure stepped across the light, followed by a swoosh of what might have been a red cape… _Lexa_?

Clarke squinted and inched a bit further along the corridor. A black female security guard standing nearby cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow at her. She was quite short, but Clarke noted her strong arms and the I’d-like-to-see-you-fucking-try expression on her face and thought it best not to get on the wrong side of this woman.

Clarke quickly averted her eyes, looking down at her shoes for a while to feign disinterest, before chancing another look up at the door. Through the gap, she could see a man with a shaved head applying black paint down his face in two stripes. Clarke whipped out her phone to message Octavia.

_I can see Li-_

‘Hello,’ said a voice behind her.

Clarke spun around to see the photographer in the leather trench coat.

‘Hi,’ she offered back.

‘Haven’t seen you before, what’s your name?’ he asked. He wore large black plugs in his earlobes and looked to be in his early forties. She supposed he’d been in this business for a while and would know everyone who took photos at the local metal gigs.

‘I’m Clarke.’

‘Titus,’ he said, offering out his hand.

Clarke shook it. ‘Tonight is my first big event, that’s probably why you haven’t seen me around.’

‘Ah, a newbie?’ His hard features softened to a smile. Clarke must have looked nervous because he said, ‘Don’t sweat it, you’ll be fine.’

‘Thanks,’ she said, trying to remain still. She wasn’t sure how long ago she had started hopping from one foot to the other in anticipation, but her feet were beginning to tire.

‘Nice camera, by the way. That was the very first full-frame model I owned, served me well for a long time.’

The house lights dimmed, the crowd let out a cheer, and Clarke’s breath caught in her throat. Titus jerked his head towards the stage. ‘Shall we?’

She, Titus and the rest of the photographers walked out between the front of the stage and the crash barriers as the intro music to _Wrath of the Mountain Men_ played out over the PA.

‘Three songs and that’s your lot, photo people!’ shouted the stern-looking female security guard from the side of the stage. Her eyes were fixed on Clarke.

Clarke turned around to study the hundreds of faces looking up at the stage. She couldn’t recall seeing this venue so full before, and certainly not for an opening act. She spotted Octavia leaning on the barrier a little further along, directly opposite a mic stand that Lincoln would soon be singing backing vocals into. They caught each other’s eye and exchanged a brief excited wave.

A roar erupted from the crowd as Gustus walked on stage, fists in the air, and took his place behind the drum kit. They cheered again and again as the rest of the band – Anya, Nyko and Lincoln – followed suit, but the biggest cheer of all came for Lexa.

Unlike the rest of her bandmates, she kept her head down, ignoring the fans and turned her back to them. A red spotlight focused on her, highlighting her armoured silhouette. The room fell silent with bated breath as smoke spilled out of the dry ice machines, bathing her in an eerie foggy glow. As the tempo of the intro music increased, and the bass drum boomed through the floor, Lexa began steadily raising her arms in the air.

Clarke switched her camera on and brought it up to her eye. Everything was pitch black.

She checked to make sure it was definitely switched on, and it definitely was. She felt a sweat form on her brow as she started to panic, fumbling with the buttons. _Not now. Please not now. Of all the times to break why does it have to be now?_

She felt a gentle hand on her elbow. ‘Lens cap,’ said Titus.

Clarke closed her eyes in utter disbelief at herself. _Rookie error._ She mumbled an embarrassed ‘thank you’ as she removed the cap and lined up her shot.

The song’s opening riff blasted through the speakers and Lexa spun around, screaming harsh vocals into the microphone as the strobe lights flashed on her face. Clarke snapped away as many shots as quickly as the old camera would allow her to.

After a while, she moved over to the left of the stage, where Lincoln was playing. He wore a skin-tight grey t-shirt, stylishly distressed with rips and holes. She watched his tattooed biceps twitch as his deft hands worked at his guitar, breezing his way through a complex solo in a way that made it seem easy. He looked into Clarke’s camera, winked, and smiled. _That shot ought to please Octavia._

Clarke glanced over to centre stage and her stomach gave a jolt as she noticed that Lexa was looking right at her. Clarke smiled, expecting Lexa to look away but she didn’t. Clarke held eye contact for a few more moments before her nerve faltered and she dropped her gaze.

Clarke continued to move along, snapping photos of Nyko on his huge 5-stringed bass, and Gustus pummelling away at the drums as they played through a new track called _Fear the Reapers_. Out of the corner of her eye, she could swear Lexa kept looking over at her but couldn’t say for sure if it was just her imagination. Regardless, she felt a blush start to rise in her cheeks.

‘Goooood evening, Leeds!’ said Lexa, acknowledging the crowd. ‘How are you all doing tonight?’

They responded with an ear-splitting cheer and applause.

Lexa raised her eyebrows, taken aback at their reaction, ‘Wow! Thank you. Usually I have to ask a couple of times before I get that kind of response…’

A laugh rippled up through the audience and Clarke couldn’t help but smile at her. She hadn’t thought it possible, but Lexa was somehow even more beautiful in real life, the stage lighting accentuated her high cheekbones and highlighted the curves and contours of her trim toned figure.

‘I want to hear you all scream along to this next song,’ said Lexa, slowly descending into a guttural death metal growl. ‘ _Death by a Thousand Cuts!_ ’

It was one of the band’s biggest hits and the crowd went beserk. Clarke decided to get some shots of the fans, headbanging in unison and belting out the lyrics to the chorus. She picked out some faces in the crowd that had got into the spirit of all things Trikru by braiding their hair and covering their faces in black paint. She chuckled to herself as she snapped a photo of Octavia gawking at Lincoln, wholly star-stuck, before turning back to face the stage. Lexa was now jumping and running around on stage, a dark blur of black and grey with a blood-red cape billowing out after her.

Clarke was getting some shots of Anya from the right side of the stage when Lexa landed right into her shot. Clarke quickly pointed her lens at her, adjusting the zoom to focus on her face. The key shifted as the song drew to its slow heartfelt close and suddenly Lexa crouched down, staring down the barrel of Clarke’s lens.

It was a photographer’s dream to catch an intimate moment with an artist like this and Clarke could hardly believe her luck. She only managed to press the shutter button once before her arms developed a will of their own and lowered her camera away.

‘ _You thought that you could save me, I thought that you could too…’_ Lexa sang softly, locking eyes with Clarke.

Clarke’s chest tightened. Lexa was slowly leaning forward, narrowing the gap between them. She felt suffocated by the weight of a thousand people staring at her. Lexa continued to sing, her voice tender and mournful but beautiful.

Their faces were just inches apart now and Lexa’s eyes looked shiny, as if she was fighting back tears.

_‘And now my fight is over, but I’ll always be with you...’_

The closing notes of the song faded out and Lexa closed her eyes. The audience burst into rapturous applause. Lexa got back to her feet and walked away.

Clarke remained shock-still as if she’d been struck by lighting. _Did that really just happen?_

She was brought back to reality with a firm tap on the shoulder by the security woman, who held up three fingers then made a shooing gesture at her. Clarke sighed and reluctantly moved along. She looked over her shoulder to cast Lexa a farewell glance, but she still had her back to her. Clarke felt a slight pang of disappointment as she walked away.

-

Clarke felt in need of a stiff drink. She decided she would get some shots of the band from within the audience and then watch the rest of the set from the bar, ideally holding a large measure of whisky.

With her legs feeling unsteady from her recent close encounter, she shuffled over to the rear of the hall, trying to capture the full scale of the stage and the packed crowd on her camera. A huge mosh pit had broken out in the centre of the room, and Clarke focused on it for a few shots. She quickly moved aside as a young man with dark hair flopping over his eyes had to be carried out of the pit by two larger men, his nose streaming with blood that dripped down over his bare torso.

‘Are you still with us?’ Lexa yelled to the crowd after _The Veil_ drew to a close. She placed a foot on one of the monitors and raised her fist in the air, her pose and stage attire giving the impression of a warlord commanding troops into battle. ‘It is time for vengeance! Jus drein…’

‘Jus daun!’ shouted a small cluster of fans near the front.

‘Jus drein…’ repeated Lexa, this time placing a hand behind her ear.

‘Jus daun’ replied more of the crowd.

‘I want to hear every single one of you! Jus drein…’

‘Jus daun!’ cried the audience.

‘Jus drein just daun! _Blood Must Have Blood!_ ’

If Clarke thought the crowd had been wild during _The Veil_ , this was on another level. A jostle broke out around her and she was knocked forward a few metres. She feared for the safety of her camera, and started to make her way over to the side of the hall where she might avoid most of the chaos. The stench of beer and sweat overwhelmed her as she squeezed through the throng of dancing bodies.

Somehow, Clarke had landed herself a half-decent view of the stage. Lexa was running around on stage again, jumping off the risers and kicking the air. She whipped her dark braided hair back and forth a few times with the beat, then looked up into the crowd, freezing as she instantly locked eyes with Clarke.

Lexa’s eyes widened and her lips parted slightly. She took a misstep, slipped and fell down off the stage with a thump that was barely audible over the din of the music. Clarke’s heart jumped to her throat.

There were a few whoops and jeers from the audience but it took a few seconds for anyone to realise that something was really wrong. Anya was the first of the band to notice, pulling her red guitar from around her neck and hopping off the stage. Two members of security rushed along after her. Lincoln quickly stopped playing and made cut-throat gestures towards the back of the room. The music cut out and the house lights flicked on. The crowd began to murmur.

Clarke stood on her tiptoes to try and make out what was going on, and caught a fleeting glimpse of Lexa’s legs and leather boots splayed at an odd angle on the floor. She pulled out her phone to ask Octavia if she could see what was happening, but she had no signal. Her ears throbbed with the loud fast beat of her heart.

After what felt like a lifetime, Lincoln stepped up to his microphone.

‘Hey guys, we’re very sorry about this, but we got a problem over here. Unfortunately, our singer has taken a real nasty fall. We’ve also been told that the medic is currently pre-occupied, so I guess it’s worth asking – is there a doctor in the house?’

Clarke took a deep breath and raised a shaking hand in the air.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a light in front of her. She tried lifting her arm to shield her eyes but it felt strangely heavy and, try as she might, she found that she couldn’t move it. The light flickered off for a moment then came back on, this time even closer and brighter than before. She groaned.  
  
_'Lexa, can you hear me?’  
  
_ Slowly, she blinked open one eye. She briefly saw a hand holding a torch before she had to shut it again, wincing from the brightness. A searing white-green imprint of torchlight scarred her vision.  
  
‘Hello, can you hear me?’ said an unfamiliar female voice.  
  
The light vanished and she opened her eyes. A round pretty face slid into focus above her. It belonged to a young woman with wavy blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. Her brows were furrowed with worry. Lexa had to admit that she was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. But she couldn’t shake off the feeling of déjà vu …  
  
‘Lexa? Can you say something?’ the blonde asked her.  
  
Lexa felt dumbstruck by this woman, puzzled by the strange familiarity of her presence. All she could manage as a reply was ‘Uhhh… huh?’  
  
She held out two fingers. ‘How many fingers am I holding up?’  
  
_Pull yourself together, she thinks you’re some kind of idiot_. ‘Two.’  
  
‘And are you in pain anywhere? How does your back feel?’  
  
Her head felt a little unusual but otherwise she felt alright. She shrugged. ‘I’m… fine?’  
  
‘Oh, thank god,’ said Anya.  
  
Lexa lifted her head up slightly to see her concerned bandmates gathered around at her feet. The fragments of her memory started to reassemble; Trikru were playing a show with Ice Nation… in England… she was dancing around to _Blood_ … she saw something in the crowd that distracted her… and then she was falling… and now she was here, sprawled out on the floor.  
  
‘What about your head? Do you feel nauseous at all?’ asked the blonde girl.  
  
The missing piece of the puzzle finally hit her. _That’s_ why the girl looked familiar. She had been the one with the camera, the one whose stare she kept feeling on her during the show, even when she pretended she wasn’t looking, and the one she thought she would never see again when, out of the blue, she had appeared once more.  
  
‘You…’ said Lexa, frowning at the girl. ‘But why…’ she wondered aloud, perplexed as to why she was now here questioning her health and wellbeing.  
  
‘Doc, what’s happening? Would you say she’s safe to continue?’ asked Indra, the head of the venue security.  
  
The girl’s face was practically a shade of crimson. ‘I’m not sure. She seems a little concussed.’  
  
‘Woah, now wait a moment,’ said Lexa, sitting up. She wasn’t prepared to let this show be called off. She didn’t get why everyone was making a big deal out of it; she was _fine_. Being faced with That Blonde Girl again had a lot more to do with her confusion than any head trauma, she was sure of it. But she wasn’t about to admit that to anyone.  
  
She struggled to her feet, refusing hands of help from those around her, determined to prove to everyone that she was alright. The audience let out a cheer and began to applaud. She raised a hand at them and smiled.  
  
She took a few confident strides forward and instantly regretted it. Her head throbbed and a wave of nausea washed over her. She lifted a hand to the side of her forehead and found it wet to the touch. As she looked down at the dark blood on her fingers, her vision blurred and turned to black. She swayed and lost control of her legs, falling backwards towards the floor.  
  
Strong slender forearms caught her underarms. She looked up to see the pretty blonde girl studying her, eyebrows raised in a way that said _I told you so_. A light was shining behind her head, illuminating her hair with a halo of white. She was truly an angel in human form.  
  
‘And so we meet again,’ said Lexa, dreamily.  
  
‘Okay, you are _not_ getting back on that stage. You need to rest.’  
  
Gustus popped his head over the girl’s shoulder. ‘Lexa… I think she’s right.’  
  
Lexa sighed in resignation.  
  
Gustus lifted her limp body with ease and carried her away towards the backstage area. She heard Lincoln apologise to the crowd for having to cut their set short. The disappointed _booing_ and _awing_ of the audience rang bitterly in her ears.  
  
Gustus took her into the green room and placed her down on a tattered cigarette-burned sofa. Anya, Indra and the blonde girl followed them.  
  
‘I’m going to need some ice and clean towels,’ said the girl.  
  
‘I’ll go to the bar for the ice,’ said Indra, heading back out.  
  
‘And I’ll find some towels,’ said Anya. Gustus went with her.  
  
Lexa’s cape had gotten tangled and was pulling on her shoulder uncomfortably. She started fiddling with the straps to get it off. The noise from the hall had been dampened by the closed door but Lexa couldn’t rid the sounds of those unhappy fans from her mind.  
  
The knot wouldn’t give. She had never had to cancel or cut a show short before and this was all her fault.  She couldn’t believe she had lost her concentration by allowing her emotions to get the better of her.  
  
She continued to struggle at the straps.  
  
‘This _fucking_ thing!’ She balled her hand into a fist and slammed it against the sofa cushion.  
  
She closed her eyes and took a steady breath to calm herself. When she went to try the knot again her fingertips brushed against a soft hand. The connection sent a jolt through her stomach. Lexa looked up to see the girl leaning over her with a hand stretched out to help. They stared at each other, neither of them moving their hands away, for exactly how long Lexa couldn’t say.  
  
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t hav-’  
  
‘Go ahead,’ said Lexa, lifting her hand away. The girl quickly untied the knot and slid the cape off her shoulder. ‘Thanks.’  
  
Anya rushed into the room carrying towels. She paused mid-step, sensing that she’d interrupted something. She’d always had the ability to sniff out the slightest whiff of trouble; Lexa envied her for it. She considered them both for a moment, her eyes flicking from one to the other and back again, before she handed the towels to the girl.

-

Lexa winced as the girl dabbed a damp towel at her head wound.  
  
‘I’ve never seen blood this colour before,’ she said, turning the towel around so Lexa could see. Her blood had mixed with the black war paint and had turned an unusually dark shade.  
  
‘All metal musicians bleed black. It’s an aesthetic requirement. Didn’t you know?’  
  
The girl’s mouth curved up into a smile. Small cute dimples formed on her cheeks. Lexa secretly vowed to make this girl smile often; it was intoxicating. Her hair smelled of coconut and she had one of those calming auras about her that all medical professionals seemed to naturally possess.  
  
‘How are you feeling now? Any nausea?’  
  
Lexa shook her head. ‘I’m fine.’  
  
The girl raised a sceptical eyebrow at her.  
  
‘I’m serious this time.’  
  
‘Alright. Hold this here for a moment.’ She picked up Lexa’s left hand and pressed it firmly against the towel. ‘I need you to maintain this level of pressure.’  
  
Indra and Anya were speaking to each other in hushed tones at the other side of the room. Lexa tried to work out what they were discussing but it was to avail. Her eyes drifted back to the pretty blonde sitting on the chair next to her. She was carefully tying knots in a plastic carrier bag of ice cubes.  
  
‘You still haven’t told me your name…’ said Lexa.  
  
‘Oh! Sorry, I’m Clarke.’  
  
Lexa held out her free hand for her to shake. Clarke dropped the makeshift ice pack into her lap and took Lexa’s hand into her own.  
  
‘Nice to meet you, Clarke.’ Her hand was smooth and cold like stone. ‘I’m Lexa.’  
  
‘Yeah… I know.’  
  
Lexa closed her eyes in horror. _Well done, now she_ knows _you’re an idiot._ ‘Yes, I suppose you would know that.’  
  
Clarke smiled at her. It was sweet and not mocking.  
  
‘So, you’re a photographer and also a doctor?’ said Lexa, keen to divert the focus away from her.  
  
‘Almost. I study medicine at university. I’m in my final year.’  
  
_Attractive and smart, wow._ ‘Impressive.’  
  
‘The photography thing is just a hobby, though.’ A slight blush appeared in Clarke’s cheeks. She leaned across Lexa’s body and lifted up her left hand to check under the towel.  
  
Lexa studied her sapphire blue eyes, her soft pink lips, her cleft chin, her neck, the swell of her breasts tilting forwards from her black tank top... Now it was Lexa’s turn to blush.  
  
‘I think that’s stopped the bleeding now. Let’s swap it for ice.’  
  
Lexa swallowed away the lump that had appeared in her throat. She gave a satisfied groan as Clarke pressed the ice pack to her head. It felt soothing on her head and refreshing on her hot face.  
  
‘You should rest up for 48 hours. No alcohol. Take painkillers if you need to but avoid-’  
  
Lexa sat upright, snapping out of her reverie. ‘48 hours?!’  
  
‘Yes,’ said Clarke, pushing Lexa’s shoulder and forcing her back to a reclining position. ‘And lie down for as much of that as you can.’  
  
‘Not going to happen. We have a show tomorrow night and another one the following night in London. It’s the last date of the tour and we’re filming a live DVD. I can’t pull out of that, the record label would kill me.’  
  
Clarke bit her lip. ‘Look, you lost consciousness and you’re very lucky you didn’t need stitches on that cut. See how you feel in 2 days’ time, but I’d strongly recommend sitting out tomorrow night, at the very least. And if your record label can’t understand that, well, that’s their problem, not yours.’  
  
She supposed Clarke had a point. She would see how she felt tomorrow. But there was no way she was missing the final show. ‘Spoken like a true doctor.’  
  
‘Oh, don’t, you sound like Octavia.’  
  
‘Who’s that?’  
  
‘My friend.’ Clarke started to fumble at her pockets as if suddenly remembering something. ‘I should probably let her know what’s going on.’  
  
‘Oh, she’s here?’  
  
Clarke nodded while typing on her phone.  
  
‘Why don’t you bring her backstage? If you want to, that is.’  
  
Clarke looked up in mild disbelief. ‘Really? She would love that!’  
  
‘Sure.’ _If her friend is back here too she might want to stick around longer…_ There was the risk that this “friend” of hers was actually her girlfriend, but Lexa decided it was worth a gamble. ‘Hey, Indra? Can Clarke bring her friend back here for a while?’  
  
Indra’s eyes narrowed as she surveyed Clarke with one of her stern looks. ‘As long as they stay on their best behaviour.’  
  
‘We’ll be good, I promise,’ said Clarke, grinning.  
  
‘Alright then, follow me and we’ll go find your friend.’  
  
Seconds after they left, the hiss and crack of a beer can being opened made Lexa jump. Anya stared at her over the top of the can while she took a long drink from it.  
  
‘What?’ asked Lexa.  
  
Anya said nothing. She lowered the can to reveal a wry knowing smile on her lips.  
  
Lexa rolled her eyes.

-

‘Not that one again, for fuck’s sake, Gustus,’ said Anya.  
  
‘What’s wrong with Babymetal?’  
  
Anya and Gustus were sitting at the table with the laptop and, as usual, squabbling over which songs to put on a playlist. Lexa had been dutifully obeying Clarke’s instructions and remained in the same position on the sofa. Clarke was back on the chair next to her, chatting to her friend, who sat perched on the edge of the adjacent sofa.  
  
Octavia had barely taken her eyes off Lincoln while he snapped shut the guitar flight cases and finished off packing the band’s gear away. Nyko, meanwhile, sat slumped over in an armchair in the corner, looking worse for wear and twitching occasionally as he tried to fight off sleep.  
  
Lincoln walked over and crouched down next to Clarke.  
  
‘How’s she doing, Clarke?’  
  
‘ _She_ is fine,’ said Lexa.  
  
Lincoln raised his hands in the air. ‘Sorry, Commander.’  
  
‘Don’t think I’m too sick to kick your ass if you call me Commander again.’  
  
He grinned and turned to Clarke. ‘Who’s your friend, by the way?’  
  
Clarke beamed. ‘This is Octavia.’  
  
Lincoln shook Octavia’s hand and took a seat next to her on the sofa.  
  
‘So, do you study medicine too?’  
  
‘Not quite. I actually study Physiotherapy,’ said Octavia, breathlessly. ‘But we live together.’  
  
‘That’s neat! Hey, can I get you a beer?’  
  
‘Sure!’  
  
Clarke turned her head away from them, trying to hide the huge smile on her face.  
  
‘What is it?’ Lexa asked her quietly.  
  
Clarke made sure the two were engaged conversation before continuing. Lexa held her breath as Clarke licked her lips then leaned in close, her mouth mere centimetres away from Lexa’s cheek.  
  
‘Please don’t say anything but Octavia has a huge crush on Lincoln.’  
  
Lexa smirked. _No shit_. ‘That secret is safe with me.’  
  
She observed Clarke watching Octavia and Lincoln talk for a while. She smiled and closed her eyes, letting all the chatter and music wash over her. Not having to think or talk eased the dull ache in her head. Her heartbeat slowed back to its usual pace and at last she felt at peace.  
  
‘Hey!’  
  
Lexa opened her eyes. She must have nodded off. Roan was standing in the doorway, dressed in his stage furs and white face paint. ‘I heard someone took a little tumble?’  
  
She scowled at him. _He’ll never let me live this down.  
  
_ Echo walked in after him, also in stage-ready attire. The braids Lexa had put in her hair the previous night were still holding firm. ‘Babe, you look rough.’  
  
‘Do I?’  
  
‘Nah, you’re beautiful as ever. Head looks a bit sore, though. How are you feeling?’  
  
She knew everyone meant well but Lexa wasn’t used to being the centre of attention - offstage, at least – and she was tired of being asked the same question over and over again. ‘I’m fine.’  
  
Roan and Echo simultaneously gave Clarke a curious glance.  
  
‘Oh, this is Clarke, my new doctor,’ said Lexa.  
  
‘The hero of the day?’ said Echo. She shook Clarke’s hand. Roan shook it too, then he went over to talk to Anya and Gustus.  
  
From behind her back, Echo produced a frosted glass bottle with Cyrillic characters embossed on the front. Liquid sloshed about inside as she gave it a little shake. ‘Wanna help me finish this?’  
  
‘You _still_ have that?’ said Lexa. It had been a present from a fan at an earlier show in Budapest. Neither of them had been able to figure out exactly what it was, or where it was from, but it tasted like toilet cleaner and death.  
  
‘It’s so awful. But it’s 70%, I can’t just throw it away.’  
  
‘I can’t help you tonight, sorry. I have to stay sober.’ Lexa jerked her head in Clarke’s direction. ‘Doctor’s orders.’  
  
Echo sighed with disappointment. ‘The curse of the devil’s drink strikes again… Hey, Clarke, do you want some?’  
  
Clarke eyed the bottle with suspicion. ‘Hmm, no thanks.’  
  
‘I’d never make it in a sales career, would I?’  
  
Clarke smiled. ‘You’re much better at the music thing, I’d stick with that.’  
  
Echo grinned to Lexa. ‘I like this one. Anyway, I better get going, we’re due on stage any minute. Get well soon!’  
  
‘We’re gonna go watch their set,’ said Lincoln, standing up. He and Octavia were holding hands.  
  
Lexa and Clarke raised their eyebrows at each other and smirked.  
  
‘You coming, Nyko?’ asked Lincoln.  
  
Nyko jerked awake from his slumber. ‘Hmm?’  
  
‘Hair of the dog, that’s what you need,’ said Anya. She offered him her arm and helped him up out of the chair.  
  
‘Hope you feel better, Lexa.’ said Roan. ‘Maybe you can find something to, uh, take your mind off it.’ He deliberately glanced at Clarke then gave Lexa a wink, and followed the rest of them out of the room.  
  
Gustus stayed behind on the laptop. Lexa figured he would be undertaking his daily habit of reading online conspiracy theories.  
  
‘What’s today’s special on the menu of crazy?’  
  
‘Poisonous government snow,’ said Gustus, not taking his eyes away from the screen.  
  
She shook her head. He was a hopeless case.  
  
Lexa actually had a conspiracy theory of her own. She suspected that Gustus was really there to keep an eye on things between her and Clarke, and later on he would report back to Anya with all the juicy details. Anya liked to pretend that she was blasé and uninterested in her friends’ personal affairs but in reality she thrived off them. She would never be so bold as to intrude on proceedings herself, but this was precisely the sort of sly tactic she would employ.  
  
_Something_ was going on behind her back, Lexa was sure of it. And judging from the wink that Roan gave her as he left, he might even be in on it too. Maybe everyone was in on it. Who could say how deep the treachery ran?  
  
‘Don’t feel obliged to stay with me, Clarke. Go watch Ice Nation, they’re great live and you shouldn’t miss out on my account.’  
  
‘No, it’s fine. I’d rather stay - if that’s alright with you?’  
  
‘Thank you, that’s very considerate of you.’  
  
They smiled at each other until the moment drifted into an awkward silence.  
  
‘So…’ they both said in unison, then tittered nervously.  
  
There was no longer any music playing and Lexa was desperate for something to talk about to break the tension. But, aside from bizarre medical conspiracy tales that she was keen to avoid, her brain kept drawing a blank.  
  
‘I heard you had some traffic problems on the way. What happened?’ asked Clarke.  
  
‘Well,’ Lexa began, grateful for a sensible topic of conversation. ‘That’s only half the story. It all started this morning when we found that Nyko had passed out after locking himself in the bathroom. He spent the whole night in there! Anya and Lincoln were playing poker with him last night and…’

-

Despite being both a logical and cynical person by nature, Lexa firmly believed in magic. Not the kind where rabbits appeared from hats or where children bought wands and went to wizarding schools, but rather she believed that magic existed during rare times like these, when two humans felt a deep and spiritual connection, in a way that science could surely not explain. A void had been filled that she never knew she had.  
  
The conversation had flowed seamlessly and the hours breezed by in the blink of an eye. All without the assistance of alcohol too, which was usually a strict requirement for Lexa to talk so much. Her cheeks ached from smiling. They talked of everything from tour life, music and studying to childhood stories, philosophy and dashed hopes and dreams. No topic felt too personal for discussion.  
  
‘We just sort of drifted apart, you know? He used to be this sweet, protective guy. Always down for adventures and fooling around. And his hair was like something off a shampoo commercial. But, over time, something in him changed. He went against everything he stood for. In the end I didn’t even know who he was any more.’  
  
_He. Not she._ Lexa’s heart sank to her knees. Over the years she had finely tuned her skills in reading the subtleties of human chemistry. Clarke was giving off all the right signs; her positive body language, the way her hands had trembled slightly when she touched her, the way her eyes would linger on Lexa’s lips… But perhaps on this occasion her own wishful thinking had clouded her judgement, causing her to find things that were not actually there.  
  
‘Maybe I should have just stuck to girls?’  
  
‘Maybe you should have.’ Lexa smiled, but her relief was short-lived. She felt a stab of guilt in her heart as her thoughts turned to Costia. ‘I lost someone special to me too.’  
  
‘What happened?’  
  
‘She died in a car accident.’  
  
‘ _Oh_ … I’m very sorry.’  
  
Lexa shrugged. ‘I learned to shut down most of my feelings. I don’t get attached any more. Life is easier that way.’  
  
‘So you just stop yourself from caring about people?’  
  
Lexa nodded. _And it was going fine until you came along.  
  
_ Clarke was crestfallen. ‘That’s very sad. Love should be celebrated, not pushed aside. You’re basically just punishing yourself.’  
  
‘I deserve it. If we didn’t have that petty argument and I didn’t tell her to leave, she would still be alive. It’s all on me.’  
  
Clarke grabbed her hand. Lexa’s body went rigid. ‘Lexa, you cannot blame yourself over something like that,’ she said in a very serious tone. ‘It will tear you apart. And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better, I speak from first-hand experience.’  
  
Lexa looked into her sad pretty eyes. ‘You do?’  
  
Clarke let go of her hand. ‘My dad and I were very close. He always understood me better than my mother. It’s been nearly five years but a day hasn’t gone by where I haven’t thought about him.’  
  
‘I’m sorry.’  
  
‘I blamed myself for so long,’ she continued. ‘I despised myself. Then I hated my mother, then my best friend, and pretty much everyone I was close to. I wasted so much time and energy in shutting myself away.’ She smiled slightly at Lexa. A solemn smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘But sometimes terrible things just happen, and that’s the way it is.’  
  
Lexa deeply wished that she could share Clarke’s more optimistic outlook, but it was much easier said than done.  
  
‘Death is horrible, and random, and a… total cunt.’  
  
Lexa smiled. ‘That we can agree on.’  
  
Clarke snorted. She looked up to the ceiling and shook her head.  
  
‘What?’  
  
‘I just can’t believe I’m sitting here with you. And we’re talking about _death_ , of all things. It feels very goth.’  
  
Lexa let out a long laugh. ‘Oh no! I’m so cliché, aren’t I?’  
  
Clarke flashed her that full intoxicating smile again. ‘Not at all. You haven’t offered me as a sacrifice to Lucifer yet, personally I’d say you’re slacking…’  
  
Lexa’s cheeks hurt as she laughed again. This girl was something else. She spotted the camera bag at Clarke’s feet and nodded towards it. ‘Could I see some of your photographs?’  
  
Clarke’s smile quickly faded. She lowered her gaze and began picking at a loose thread on her grey skinny jeans.  
  
‘Uh, well, I haven’t looked over them yet. They’re probably all terrible. And you should know that this was my first real…’  
  
Lexa rested her head against her hand as she watched Clarke rattle off a list of excuses. ‘Look, if you aren’t comfortable and don’t want to, that’s okay. But could I ask you to do something for me?’  
  
‘Yeah?’  
  
Lexa pulled her phone out of her pocket, opened the camera app and handed it over to Clarke. ‘Would you take a photo of me for Instagram? People might be wondering what happened to me tonight.’  
  
‘Smile and say “Satan”,’ said Clarke, giggling as she took the photo. She passed the phone back to her.  
  
‘You have Instagram, right? What’s your username?’  
  
‘It’s _clarkeygriffersmd_.’  
  
‘Do you post any of your photography there?’  
  
‘You’re really keen to see my work, aren’t you?’  
  
Obscuring the phone from Clarke’s line of sight, Lexa found her username and pressed the Follow button. She started to scroll through her photos.  
  
Clarke sighed. ‘ _Alright_. You can see my photos from the show, if you want. But don’t judge me too harshly!’  
  
‘I promise I’ll say only good things.’ Lexa sat up and quickly stuffed the phone into her pocket. She shifted along on the sofa and patted the empty space next to her.  
  
Clarke took the seat next to her and began flicking through the camera roll.  
  
Lexa rested her arm along the back of the sofa. She thought about dropping it around Clarke and gently caressing her shoulder, but wasn’t sure if she was ready to initiate physical intimacy. This evening had been special and she didn’t want to ruin it. What if she did something clumsy and stupid? What if it made Clarke feel uncomfortable? What if she liked it and reciprocated…? Lexa wasn’t sure which of these hypothetical scenarios was worse. Besides, Gustus was still watching them; Anya would have a field day.  
  
‘Ignore that one, way out of focus,’ said Clarke. ‘…and that one, oh my god, I don’t even know what I was thinking there.’  
  
Sure, there were a few hiccups scattered among them, but over all Lexa thought her photographs were very stylish and professional.  
  
‘Hey, I look really good there.’  
  
‘What’s new?’ said Clarke, with a wink.  
  
Lexa stomach churned. She was terrible at taking compliments, and especially bad when they came from beautiful women. She found that she could no longer look Clarke in the eye.  
  
A slow-motion replay of the evening’s earlier events played out on the small screen as Clarke continued to thumb through the photos. There were a few nice shots of the fans, a great one of Lincoln winking at the camera, and some cool snaps of Gustus and Nyko.  
  
‘That’s an amazing one of Anya,’ said Lexa.  
  
Anya was stood in a power stance with fierce concentration etched on her face while she strummed her fire-red signature Ibanez.  
  
‘Yeah, that might be my best one,’ said Clarke.  
  
Frame-by-frame, they watched as stage-Lexa jumped into the shot and leaned towards the camera. Lexa felt suddenly tense as she relieved that strange, wonderful moment they had shared together. From the way Clarke’s posture had stiffened next to her, Lexa guessed that was what she was thinking about too.  
  
‘That is… wow,’ said Lexa.  
  
Clarke had paused on a close-up of Lexa’s face. The lighting made her look like a painting. She was staring into the lens with such tenacity as if boring into the viewer’s soul. Her deep green eyes looked radiant and glistened with emotion. It was perfect.  
  
‘Okay, maybe _that’s_ my best one.’  
  
‘My eyes look incredible.’  
  
Clarke looked up, locking eyes with her. ‘When they look like that, don’t they always?’  
  
Lexa could feel herself sweating. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Gustus roll his eyes at Clarke’s words. Oh, he was definitely listening in on them. _Say something back to her, Lexa, stay in control.  
  
_ ‘Will you send me that? It’d make a great profile picture.’  
  
‘It could do with some editing.’  
  
‘Whenever you’re happy with it, if you could send it over that would be wonderful. Send over a few, I’ll put them on our website.’  
  
‘You would do that? Thank you so much.’ Clarke looked overwhelmed. She took a breath to say to something, then changed her mind. A few seconds passed and she did it again. Then she blurted out, ‘Can I have your autograph?’  
  
The clock had struck midnight and the carriage morphed back into a pumpkin. Or so it felt. Over the course of the evening, Lexa had almost forgotten that she was this famous person and Clarke was just some fan. Getting romantically involved with fans was always bad news; it never worked out. _Stop thinking like that, it’s never going to happen anyway._ _  
  
_ ‘Of course you can,’ said Lexa. ‘What would you like me to sign?’  
  
‘Oh, um…’ Clarke clearly hadn’t thought this through. She produced a crumpled bus ticket from her pocket and handed it to Lexa with a shrug.  
  
They burst into synchronous laughter.  
  
‘I think we can do better than that, Clarke.’ Lexa turned her head towards Gustus. ‘Hey, do we have any CDs to hand?’  
  
He dug around in a cardboard box under the table, pulled out a CD and threw it over to her. He found a marker pen and threw that over too.  
  
Lexa flipped through the pages of the CD booklet to the centrefold image of the band and signed the usual blank spot above her head. She thought about drawing a little heart next to her signature, then dismissed it as a stupid and cheesy idea, then went ahead and did it anyway.  
  
An adorable blush rose in Clarke’s cheeks when she took the booklet.  
  
The noise of the crowd cheering and applauding from the main hall spilled into the green room, signalling the end of Ice Nation’s set, and, in turn, the end of Lexa and Clarke’s time together.  
  
‘I guess I’d better get going,’ said Clarke.  
  
‘Yeah, I guess so…’ said Lexa. She had hoped that, somehow, on this most unusual of days, something would happen to extend their meeting and allow them more time. But it was not to be.  
  
‘Thank you so much for everything.’  
  
Lexa cleared her throat. ‘No – thank _you_ – for your wonderful conversation, delightful company, and, oh, that small matter of saving my life.’  
  
Clarke scoffed. ‘I hardly-’  
  
‘I appreciate it very much. It was a pleasure to meet you, Clarke.’  
  
‘The pleasure was all mine.’ Clarke held out her hand.  
  
‘Come on, Clarke, we’re way past that.’ She knocked Clarke’s hand aside and pulled her into a tight embrace. Her hair felt soft against her face and she allowed herself to bask in the sweet scent of coconut for a precious moment before letting go.  
  
Clarke put her camera bag over her shoulder and got to her feet. ‘Goodbye, Lexa. Bye, Gustus. It was lovely to meet all of you.’  
  
Lexa gave a curt nod. ‘May we meet again.’  
  
Clarke gave her a small wave from the doorway and then she was gone. Lexa exhaled deeply.  
  
‘I haven’t seen you look at anyone like that in a long time,’ said Gustus. ‘Not since, you know…’  
  
Lexa shot him a sardonic smile. ‘Gus, would you do me a favour?’  
  
‘Sure?’

‘Shut the fuck up.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your kudos and comments so far! I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much as the previous one.

**Author's Note:**

> Title named after the classic 90s death metal album by Carcass.
> 
> This is my first ever piece of fanfiction! Go easy on me ;-)


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